What's a Burger?
by Lucillia
Summary: Young Hashirama and Madara - whose first friendship has not yet broken up - end up in the future thanks to Konohamaru. Rather than having been brought somewhere sensible, some time where they could run into people who actually knew them in life, they're skipped past all that and land in the reign of the Nanadaime; which may as well be an alien world as far as they're concerned.
1. Prologue: What's a Burger?

"So, do you think it's edible?" the boy with the bowl cut asked, poking at the wrapped object on the tray in front of him.

"Maybe." the spiky-haired boy who was seated across from him said, as he gave a near-identical paper wrapped object on the tray in front of him a dubious glance.

"Unbelievable!" the whisker-cheeked blond who'd dragged them to the restaurant groaned. "How can you two be so utterly deprived as to never have seen a burger before?"

Both boys turned to stare at the blond boy that was around their age who hadn't bothered introducing himself before dragging them to this "Burger Joint" after they'd confessed to not having eaten in over a day when he'd caught them stealing from a greengrocer's stall. Why the boy had been so horrified that the two of them had gone 24 hours without food, they didn't know, having experienced longer stretches during lean times despite having been the sons of the heads of their respective clans. Whoever this kid was, he had to be the son of a Daimyo or something to have never missed more than a single meal in his life. Truth was, neither boy had ever seen anything like the strangely named objects that had been served to them in their lives before, much less heard of one, and they weren't entirely sure that they could depend on the possible kindness being shown by this obviously foreign noble who had suddenly decided to bestow his largesse upon the two of them considering the fact that one wrong move could end with them being used against their respective fathers who wouldn't be happy to discover they'd been captured in the company of the other. Though neither boy had consulted the other on the matter, and neither boy knew 100% for certain who the other was because they'd remained deliberately "ignorant" in order to maintain their friendship, both were pretty much on the same page, and their thoughts had run eerily alike as they regarded the strange whisker-cheeked boy who had seemed a bit bothered by the intensity of their stares.

"I don't understand you two." the blond boy said a little too casually for the discomfort his body language was displaying before wrapping his lips around the hollow stick that poked out of the container of faintly hissing liquid that had come with the identical "meal" that the boy had purchased for himself, causing some of the brown liquid to go up into the boy's mouth like air through a reed. "Five minutes ago, you two were hungry enough to steal a couple of manky tomatoes off some random cart, and now you're not eating."

"Fine!" the boy with the bowl cut said, taking the challenge that had been offered and grabbing one of the things that had looked like a bit of sliced potato which had been fried for some reason before shoving it in his mouth and making a face that caused the spiky haired boy to laugh.

The boy with the bowl cut made a sound that sounded like "Gyaglgh" before spitting out the partially chewed potato slice and groaning "Sooo much salt!".

The boy with the spiky hair laughed even harder at the antics of the boy with the bowl cut.

"Well, I don't see you trying anything Madara!" the boy with the bowl cut snapped.

"Fine!" the spiky haired boy exclaimed. "You want me to try something, I will!"

With that, the boy named Madara snatched up the paper wrapped object from the tray in front of him, unwrapped the paper from the object which looked to him like it was made of some sort of mystery meat which had been shoved between two slices of an unusually soft pan that had been slathered in unidentifiable sauces along with a lettuce leaf and two slices of tomato. Before he could lose his courage, Madara took a bite out of the object. An instant later, the boy's face scrunched up in an expression that was equal parts confusion and disgust as he tried to process whatever the hell it was he'd bitten into. The boy promptly spit the bite of whatever the hell that was he'd been dared into eating out and launched himself across the table at the blond haired brat who was looking at him as if he'd just committed an act of blasphemy.

"Are you trying to poison me?!" the boy named Madara yelled as he attacked the blond boy with the only weapon he had at hand at the moment, which was the rest of the hamburger.

"Shikadai! Inojin! Help!" the blond boy with the whisker marked cheeks who was trying to hold off Madara exclaimed as two boys who'd just entered the restaurant stood there and stared as Madara tried to smother the blond boy with the burger.

Senju Hashirama paled at the sight of what were obviously a Nara and a Yamanaka, but prepared to dive into the conflict to rescue his friend.


	2. Chapter 1: Arrival in a Strange Land

Hashirama and Madara had been sitting on the top of the cliff that was a two hour hike away from their respective homes when it happened. Why the Uchiha and the Senju lived in such close proximity to each-other despite the enmity between their respective clans was a question for the ages. Especially considering what happened the one or two times that the Uchiha and the Senju had accidentally tried to camp in the same spot at the same time.

The week before, Hashirama had declared the spot below the cliff on which the two boys were seated, which stood at a point which would make an equilateral triangle between it and the Senju and Uchiha strongholds, the perfect spot for a village founded in peace where there would be no conflict between the clans and all children would be safe and off the battlefield. Thad day, he and Madara were sitting at the edge of the cliff where they'd had a nice spar which had once again ended in Hashirama's favor plotting out their fantasy village, which both knew on some level would never be considering the world they lived in.

It was as they were playing rock-paper-scissors in order to settle a debate regarding a choice spot for a house should a village actually be built there that the light overtook them. The light was followed by a high-powered wind that swirled them around in a featureless white void. Eventually, the nausea inducing ride was over, and the pair of small boys found themselves in the middle of a circle of scorched grass.

As they both tried to puzzle how they got where they were, a deep voice said "Oh...Shit". Looking up, they found themselves facing a strange brown-haired man dressed in strange, tight black hakama and an odd black top of some sort over which a strange green vest had been thrown. Topping off the man's highly unusual outfit was a blue scarf which had been wrapped around the man's neck multiple times.

Not even stopping to think, both boys went on the offensive, teaming up against the man, instinctively knowing how to move around each-other despite never having gone against an opponent together thanks to all the sparring they had done. The man, who was obviously a shinobi, put up a good fight, a fight that both boys could see that they could not win if it continued much longer, but both boys had managed to land injuring blows on him. Rather than bleeding, the man vanished completely in a cloud of smoke. Figuring it to be a substitution jutsu, both boys ran from the scene as fast as they could before the actual shinobi could reappear and attack them from another angle. Neither boy had any illusions that they'd still be alive if the man hadn't been trying to capture them, and neither boy could afford to be captured considering who they were to their respective clans.

It was as they were running that their minds began to pick out details of their immediate surroundings. Surroundings that puzzled the hell out of them. The place they'd left had been almost pristine woodlands. The place they'd arrived at seemed to be a massive city; but they'd never seen the likes of this city before in their entire lives. Buildings that were far taller than they thought were even possible towered overhead with what looked like laundry hanging from balconies five, ten and even more stories above their heads. More people than they thought were even in the world wandered amongst these buildings, showing absolutely no fear, as if they didn't expect an attack to come any day now, whether it be from a Daimyo who wanted to consolidate their territory into his own, or a pair of fueding clans rolling through with little to no consideration for what was around them as they turned the entire area, town and countryside alike, into a battlefield.

It was strange watching all of this. The people and their apparent indifference to their surroundings the strangest of all. Hashirama and Madara had both grown up in a world where even the civilians looked over their shoulders to make sure there wasn't someone trying to stick a kunai in their back, and not seeing that was the most foreign and most unsettling thing about this place.

Well, the people's complete fearlessness and utter indifference had been the strangest of all the two boys had seen until they'd run into two lines of metal running across one of the strangely paved roads they'd been walking down. As they were trying to figure out why someone had run metal lines across the road, a light started flashing and something started making a dinging noise and a painted wooden bar lowered itself across the street, blocking their path. As the two boys wondered what the bar was there for, they began to hear a strange noise coming from their right. Hopping over the bar and looking in the direction the loud and unidentifiable noise was coming from, they saw a strange wheeled thing with odd protrusions on the top that had the kanji for lightning painted on them approaching them.

As they tried to figure out what the thing was that was approaching them could possibly be, and what purpose it could possibly serve, it emitted a loud bellow. Then a man who was standing behind a window at the front of the gigantic thing frantically waved at them before pulling a cord that caused the thing to emit another loud bellow. An instant before the two would've very sensibly dodged the massive object that was approaching them at a fair clip, someone scooped the both of them up and carried them down the road a ways.

The man who grabbed them, from whom both boys could sense anger simmering near eruption, set both boys down in what looked like it might be a park. Neither boy was certain though, because they had only been close enough to still-intact parks to see them a small handful of times in their lives. Before the boys could escape from the man who seemed to be building towards a towering rage, if the feeling coming off of him was accurate, the man expertly grabbed them by their collars before tying them up and setting them on the ground.

Looking up at the man who towered over the two boys who were busy trying to shred the ropes that bound them, the two boys couldn't help but stare in amazement. The brown-haired, black-eyed man with the scar across his nose that both boys were almost willing to swear was a Senju, even though Hashirama didn't recognize him and he knew all the men in his clan by sight, was positively ancient. At least thirty-five, maybe even forty or more.

"I know your parents have told you this," the man growled, apparently not in the least bit concerned with their escape attempts. "I know your teachers have told you this at least once a year. Now, I'm going to tell you this for the absolute last time!"

Both boys gulped. Despite the man's incredibly advanced age, he moved smoothly without signs of any ancient injuries that would weaken him enough that they might take him. Much the way their fathers who'd been incredibly strong enough to make it to their forties did. Which meant that, like as not, he could make good on his threat without even trying all that hard, despite the fact that both boys were already almost as good as the average adult in their respective clans at their young ages.

Nobody made it past thirty without being either crippled or damn near unbeatable, and the man who looked about ready to spit fire sure as hell wasn't crippled.

While the boys were both distracted with exactly how screwed they were, the man's head grew to epic proportions as he yelled "YOU DO NOT PLAY CHICKEN WITH THE TRAINS!"

The man's attitude then abruptly reversed itself upon seeing that the two boys in front of him were suitably cowed. Well, completely freaked out rather, but close enough. Smiling a smile that had an underlying promise of pain and misery waiting in the future, the man said "Now run along you two, I'm going to be having words with your Instructor in the morning."

Both boys, not wanting to question their good luck too much, lest it be pulled away from them and they found themselves in a life or death struggle with a man who'd made it to an incredibly advanced age with surprisingly few scars, promptly got up and ran.

* * *

"Crap. Crap. Crap. This is bad." Konohamaru said as he examined the charred circle on the clifftop training ground he'd used for his experiment. He'd been across town training his brand new students when everything had gone to hell and his Kage Bunshin had dispelled courtesy of a pair of surprisingly skilled brats. His clones were looking for the two boys who looked like they'd stepped out of his grandfather's generation, but there wasn't much luck so far.

Back when he was a kid, the search for the two children that Konohamaru was praying he hadn't pulled from the Shodai or Nidaime Hokage's reigns would've been over practically the instant it had started. The village was much smaller then, and people paid attention to things going on around them. Now, Konoha was a sprawling metropolis full of inattentive folks who might've seen the kids "go that way", with "that way" being any of about a dozen different directions.

He had some tracking skills, which his clones were using to their fullest extent, but it was clear, by the fact that the two kids weren't here, that those tracking skills which were great in open places weren't up to a massive urban enviroment with thousands of people walking across the trail left by both boys.

He was about ready to call for reinforcements, but the fear of the news of his little screw up getting out to certain people had stayed his hand. He really wanted to solve this himself before certain parties discovered that their new Konohamaru-sensei wasn't anywhere near the level of his grandfather The Professor. Especially when seals that he really shouldn't have been messing with, considering he'd used a Kage Bunshin just to be on the safe side, were involved.

He'd give himself another hour before he called the reorganized KMPF and put out an APB for the kids.

* * *

"Where do you think we are?" Hashirama asked Madara when the two boys had finally reached the trees they'd seen in the distance when they'd run from the strange old man in the park whom Hashirama didn't recognize, despite the fact that the man had looked like a Senju. The old man who'd said nothing to either boy about the fact that Hashirama was obviously interacting with someone from outside the clan who wasn't a member of one of the clans allied with the Senju. The old man who'd promised to "talk to their instructor". Whatever the hell that was supposed to mean.

"I don't know." Madara said. "That cliff kinda looks familiar, but..."

"I know." Hashirama said. Aside from the bowl shaped valley below it in which a sizable portion of the city the boys had found themselves in had been built, the cliff looked very much like the cliff he and Madara had been sitting on just a couple hours earlier. But, that cliff hadn't had faces carved into it or a major metropolis that looked like nothing he'd ever seen before surrounding it. The cliff that towered over the lower part of the massive city that the boys had found themselves in did. Seven faces to be exact. Two that looked Senjuish, two that looked Uzumakilike, one that vaguely resembled a Sarutobi, and two unknowns.

"Dad's going to have kittens if I don't get home soon." Hashirama said, tearing his eyes away from the face on the cliff that looked very much like his father which was next to the face that looked almost like a male version of his mother. Same cheekbones and jawline as his mother, but heavier.

"I know that you mean." Madara grumbled, trying not to sound worried about the predicament he'd found himself in alongside Hashirama. There was a quaver in his voice though that gave away the fact that he wasn't entirely unconcerned.

"To- My little brother is probably out looking for me already." Hashirama said, knowing it would be bad if Tobirama went looking for him and the only sign he found of him was one of a pair of canteens that had been left behind when he and Madara had been taken. The construction of Madara's canteen was...Not something he cared to think about.

"My little brother's probably also out looking." Madara said, sounding worried at the prospect.

Like Tobirama was Hashirama's only remaining brother, Madara's brother was the only one that Madara had left. Neither boy was there to protect their younger sibling, and if anything happened to them while the younger boys were out looking for their missing older brothers...

"We have to find a way back." Hashirama said decisively.

"We're going to have to wait until after dark." Madara pointed out. "Neither of us know the landscape or whether we're to the North, South, East or West of where we were..."

"I don't like having to wait until the stars come out." Hashirama almost whined. More eager to get home than usual, now that he didn't know where home was or how to get there.

"Unless you know a better way!" Madara snapped, unhappy with the situation he was in, and could do nothing about until he found a way forward.

"Fine. We'll do it your way. It was stupid of me to suggest otherwise." Hashirama said, slipping into one of his dark depressions.

Normally, Madara would do anything he could to snap the other boy out of it, but he didn't have the wherewithal to do it this time. He was too worried about all the things that could happen to his father, his brother, and his clan in the time that he was gone. What if the Senju finally decided they actually could be arsed to get up and make the two hour hike over to the Uchiha compound and ambushed them? What if there was a meteor strike? What if the moon turned back into the Jyuubi and fell to earth and crushed their houses flat?

Eventually, as Hashirama stopped sulking and Madara began itching for something to do while knowing there was nothing that could be done, the sun set. Then, the sky darkened. Then the city turned into a bright mess that drowned out all but the brightest stars as lights that didn't look like they'd been made by fire started appearing everywhere, from poles that ran along every road, from houses, from the business district, from the entertainment district...

From what few stars both boys could see though...

"No!" Madara yelled up at the sky in which one of the brightest constellations still hung.

"That's impossible!" Hashirama exclaimed right next to him.

"We have to have made a mistake!" Hashirama said, even as a hesitant edge crept into his voice. "All these bright lights are drowning out the stars. If we go somewhere with less light, we'll see all the stars and..."

 **Edited 8-9-17**


	3. Chapter 2: In Which There's a Senju

Neither Hashirama nor Madara had gotten any sleep that night. Both boys had learned to tell their locations from the positions of the stars from their respective fathers starting before they could even walk. It was a basic skill for...Anyone really. Especially necessary for folks who could damn near cross half a continent in three days if they absolutely pushed themselves pretty much to the limit, since even a slight deviation in course could put you hundreds of miles to the East or West of your destination within a few short hours, forcing you to turn around and get back on course. If you haven't landed yourself in hostile territory on accident and gotten yourself killed that was.

What the stars, the few that could be seen in spite of the city lights that drowned them out, had told the two boys who could navigate by them almost instinctively now was that they hadn't moved from where they'd been only that morning. Which was impossible. It had to be, considering a number of things, including the massive changes in the landscape in which the cliff and only the cliff was familiar and even that familiarity was highly questionable.

Deciding that they must've made a mistake somehow, since they hadn't been able to properly see the stars, the boys decided that they would need to find a dark place where they could really see the stars rather than the few brightest whose light had barely made it through the interference created by the massive city they had found themselves in the day before. The thing was, both boys had only packed for a day trip when they'd left their respective homes. Which had meant that they'd gone very light on the weaponry, the single meal they'd brought with them had been eaten before they'd been dragged from the cliff in anticipation of a supper that evening since the local farmers'd had a good enough year that they could sell to the clans without starving themselves, and their canteens had been left behind on the ground near where they'd been sitting. In order to undertake the journey they had planned, so they could see the stars and find their way home, they'd need more supplies. Lots more supplies.

Madara had argued that they should pick up supplies on the go, and should hunt for their food on the road as they'd been taught to do since before they could walk, so they could leave as soon as possible. Right then in fact. Hashirama argued that since there was a village that obviously contained and possibly even catered to shinobi right there, they should gather as many supplies as they could with their limited budgets before setting out. Eventually, Hashirama's wheedling and Madara's lack of desire to be on an unfamiliar road with only a brace of kunai, a couple handfuls of shuriken, a missing canteen and no food won out and it was decided that the boys would go shopping in the city that hadn't actually harmed them so far.

Climbing out of their respective trees, both boys set out looking for a shop of a type that any shinobi would recognize, even if they were otherwise illiterate. Food could wait, but weapons were life for a ninja. A shinobi without proper armaments was a dead shinobi.

* * *

Sarutobi Konohamaru was at wits end. He'd told himself he'd put out an APB for the boys in another hour every hour, but his pride and the fear he had over what he'd hear from the Nanadaime (In that situation, Naruto'd be the Nanadaime and not just "boss") if he let slip that he'd been experimenting with some sort of time seal and had really screwed up had stayed his hand throughout the afternoon, evening, and night as he tried to find the boys on his own so he could hide them until he figured out how he'd screwed up and fixed it.

At first, he'd been afraid of a blow to his pride. Then, as full realization of the exact nature of the failure of his seal kicked in, he realized that the problem was way more serious than he'd initially thought, and the Hokage would have to be involved in the fixing of it at the very least. Maybe even the Uchiha jerk too, considering the fact that one of the kids he'd dragged through time had looked somewhat Uchiha-like.

There were two kids who could've come from anywhen between the Founding Era to early in his dad's generation, when traditional dress that wasn't combined with the occassional non-traditional flourishes was still sort of fashionable in some parts of the village, who were running around the village. Honestly, considering the fact that they either came from a time when either cameras were a new thing or when electricity was just getting off the ground and television hadn't been invented yet, the two boys who were likely completely overwhelmed by their surroundings should've stuck out like a pair of massively sore thumbs.

The closest Konohamaru had gotten to an actual lead on them though had been a report of a pair of unidentified Academy students who'd been caught playing chicken with a commuter train. Nothing concrete since then.

Damn the village for becoming so large, and the time so conflict free, that a pair of complete strangers could wander the streets of Konoha and go completely unnoticed by even the shinobi.

* * *

Madara's eyes damn near bugged out when he saw the prices of the equipment in the shinobi supply store that he and his friend Hashirama had slipped into. Hashirama was next to him, growing increasingly morose as he examined explosive tags that cost TEN RYO APIECE. The store was as strange as all of the other places in the city that the two boys had been to so far, but a good deal of the weaponry and even some of the equipment they had on offer was at least somewhat recognizable. They couldn't understand why there were seals of a sort which consisted of a series of black lines that had been placed close together stuck to everything. Even the explosive tags had been placed in thin clear encasements which had these strange seals attached.

Perhaps it was these mysterious seals whose purpose neither boy had been able to divine that was the reason behind the rather high price of the ninja equipment?

Madara had considered just taking what he needed and urging Hashirama to do the same despite his civilian-like tendencies towards _honest_ behavior when he saw a small kid he'd written off as a civilian despite their location grab a spool of what had to be the absolute best ninja wire that Madara had ever seen, tuck it in his shirt, and then try to casually walk out the door with it. An instant before the kid reached the door, there was an unholy screeching noise which caught the attention of just about everybody in the vicinity, including a pair of shinobi who promptly grabbed the kid in what had to be one of the gentlest holds a shinobi was capable of without coddling him like an infant or carrying him like a toddler who was not yet capable of walking and...walked him back into the store where they made him hand the ninja wire back and apologize to the shopkeep before they let the spooked child run off without losing any fingers or receiving a beating he would never forget.

Weird.

Madara decided to give up the idea of stealing from the shop as a bad job. Especially since he had a strong feeling that he'd divined the purpose of the mysterious seals which were attached to everything in the shop through unknown means that didn't involve chakra or paste, considering one of the seals had tried to stick to him when he'd decided to examine the unknown seals more closely and took the risk of pulling one off of a mediocre kunai he'd pulled from a bin. There was absolutely no guarantee that he would be treated the same way that the child who'd just been caught and released had been, and he was certain that the strange seals were the most _obvious_ means of anti-theft protection. Considering how the child had been treated, it was entirely possible, very likely actually, that the kid was one of those odd nobles who liked playing at being shinobi for some strange reason so long as all the actual blood, guts, and you know, dying were left out of the equation. A noble that the local shinobi and the shopkeep couldn't afford to harm because their lives and livelihoods depended on remaining in the good graces of the boy's undoubtedly powerful father.

Giving Hashirama the standard sign that it was time to leave, which caused Hashirama's expression to darken for a moment before the boy dismissed it the way he dismissed everything he didn't want to think about, Madara left the shop unburdened with stolen items, which just about stung his pride as a shinobi since, if a shinobi couldn't buy it, they stole it, and he'd been unable to do either. Going down the road a ways, he and Hashirama found another shop which purported to be one-stop shopping for all a shinobi's needs. Before either he or Hashirama could slide the door which had large glass panels instead of rice paper open, the door slid open on its own. Flanking either side of the door were a pair of white objects which he'd noticed and ignored at the previous shop.

Neither he nor Hashirama had all that much time or even a desire to study the strange objects further than their initial puzzled glances at them. Their attention had almost immediately been captured by what lay beyond those strange objects that had been lurking behind those automatically sliding doors which had to be a masterpiece of sealwork in and of themselves.

This place was simply massive. Too big to be a shop. Shinobi of all sorts and seemingly all clans as well as those who seemed to wear the uniform of this strange city, indicating that they were in the employ of whoever was in charge of this place rather than affiliated with their family, milled about the shop which seemed to extend to another level above the one they were on and...casually ignored each-other as they each intently focused on their shopping and pretended they weren't standing next to an enemy that they would be killing under any and all other circumstances.

Madara breathed a sigh of relief as a tension he didn't realize he'd been holding dissipated when a man who wore the mark of the Senju passed by both Hashirama and himself as if they didn't exist. He considered drawing a weapon and going after the man to make sure he wouldn't become a threat anytime in the future, but dismissed the idea, considering Hashirama was right there. There was an unspoken rule between them regarding the cessation of any and all ninja business that wasn't sparring when they were together, unless their lives were directly threatened, and breaking that rule would utterly destroy their friendship.

As Madara moved forward and out of the doorway he and Hashirama were obviously blocking, carefully skirting around the Senju who openly wore his clan sigil off the battlefield like the other clan shinobi did in this place despite the risks of doing so, and carefully positioning himself so as to provide as minimal a target as possible to the man, he noticed that Hashirama was frowning at the man and biting on his lip so he wouldn't say something. Something that Madara was sure he could never ever hear, because it would utterly destroy the friendship that he and Hashirama had built if he did so.

Moving into the store while carefully not showing his back to the Senju who was strangely conversing with what looked like an Akimichi who was wearing a smock that said "sales representative", Madara found himself enchanted by what he was seeing.

"Madara," Hashirama said, grabbing his sleeve before he could make his way to a glass case in which some _Quality_ weaponry were being displayed.

"What?" Madara snapped, barely keeping himself from violently removing Hashirama's hand from him. Seeing all these enemy and potentially enemy shinobi around him had his nerves on edge, and it was only his fascination with what the store he and Hashirama had found themselves in that had kept him from simultaneously fleeing and fighting as he made his way out of the building.

"I think we should get out of here." Hashirama said quietly. "This place isn't _natural_."

"I think you're right." Madara said after a bit of thought. He could spend days in this place examining every last little thing on offer here. But, as Hashirama said, there was something _unnatural_ about this place. Shinobi didn't go ignoring shinobi from enemy clans just to go shopping, and Senju most definitely didn't consult the Akimichi regarding whether or not a garment that looked way too short and too small to cover anything which the Senju had called briefs actually dried as quickly as claimed in the event that one were soaked to the skin while completely dressed. In the event that a Senju actually were insane enough to consult an Akimichi regarding anything related to clothing, no sane Akimichi would respond by extolling the virtues of a line of "fast drying undergarments which also wick away sweat and allow certain _areas_ to 'breathe'".

Both boys exited the "store" that Madara was becoming increasingly convinced was a trap of some sort. Hashirama's unusually subdued attitude vanished as soon as they got outside where it was safer, and was replaced by one of quiet contemplation.

"Hey Madara," Hashirama, who was looking at his nether regions thoughtfully,asked. "How would one of _those_ even breathe?"

"Really weird Kekkei Genkai I really don't want to think about." Madara said as the mental image of a certain organ escaping someone's clothing and gasping for air before diving back down began to intrude. Anyone with _that_ kind of weakness would be dying off real quick. Either that, or be rendered unable to reproduce well before they reached adulthood.

"I'm beginning to think your idea was the right one all along." Hashirama said, pulling Madara out of his musings on such an unfortunate Kekkei Genkai. "We've wasted a bunch of time, and don't have _any_ supplies to show for it."

"Let's grab something to eat if we can, since we should have at least something to show for our efforts. Then, we should get the hell out of here." Madara said, agreeing with his friend.

"Fine." Hashirama said, looking like he didn't want to remain in this place even that long.

After a while of wandering, looking for food that would be a conveniently easy target, the two boys came across something that actually looked familiar to them. It was a simple vegetable stand which was set up on the back of an old cart. The prices listed for the undoubtedly fresh but common looking vegetables were just as insanely high as the prices at the weapons shop they'd visited before they'd found that _unnatural_ place. Madara would've had to spend just about his entire life savings, which he didn't have on him since he'd determined that three 1/10 Ryo coins was more than a princely enough sum to carry on his person should he need money. Three tenths of a Ryo was after all, more than enough to buy _sweets_ were he in a city rather in the country where it would buy a handful of weapons or a couple days worth of food. Or, at least, it normally was enough to buy such in any place that wasn't this bizarre city he and Hashirama were trying to escape.

Looking, and not seeing the usual precautions against ninja or even some of those strange seal things that the weapons shop had used to protect their wares, Madara decided that he might chance it. He'd managed to get one tomato into his shirt and Hashirama had followed his lead when a voice from behind him, coming from someone he hadn't realized had snuck up on him and Hashirama, had yelled "What do you guys think you're doing?!".

"We, we ah..." Madara said, not coming up with a good excuse for what could be the local constabulary who would likely have a field day if they'd ever discovered that he was Uchiha. The police of just about every village he'd encountered _hated_ the Uchiha. Probably because of the number of problems his ancestors and other assorted relatives had given them over the last several _centuries_. He was honestly about half a second from fleeing, fleeing this place where nothing made sense, but Hashirama hadn't moved, and he couldn't leave his friend behind. Especially not now, when his friend was the only thing that made sense around here.

"We needed food." Hashirama said, looking depressed and slightly ashamed, taking the initiative. Madara wasn't sure if the act was genuine or not. It certainly looked like one of his genuine sulks, except for the glint around the boy's eyes which seemed to indicate that he'd tried something like this before and gotten away with it.

"Why would you need food?" asked the puzzled looking and sounding source of the voice, which turned out to be a blond, whisker-marked boy who was dressed in black with pink highlights that was openly wearing a shuriken pouch like just about everyone did in this city, including some people that Madara was almost entirely certain weren't shinobi.

A moment later, understanding seemed to dawn as if the boy who looked to be about their age, maybe a couple years older at the most, had just grappled with a concept that was utterly foreign to him.

"When was the last time you've eaten?!" the boy exclaimed, sounding horrified.

"Yesterday." Hashirama said.

"But it was only a little bit!" Hashirama continued, doing a fairly good impression of a kicked puppy that was even tugging at Madara's heartstrings in spite of the fact that he knew it was an act meant to get them out of trouble.

"You haven't eaten since yesterday?!" the boy said, sounding stunned. "You must be absolutely starving!"

Well, that was... _unusual_. Normally, someone would've said something along the lines of "Try your act someplace else" if they'd heard that the little beggar that was trying to get their sympathy had eaten as recently as _yesterday_. This boy seemed to think you'd starve to death if you went that long without food, which spoke of a life of extreme privilege which even Madara, son of the Head of one of the best and therefore richest clans, had never experienced.

"Come on! I'm going to go and get you guys something to eat!" the blond boy exclaimed as he grabbed Madara's arm in an iron grip that confirmed that this strange boy who didn't look to be from any clan he recognized was a shinobi. Hashirama was held in a similar grip in the boy's other hand. Before Madara or Hashirama could break themselves free of the boy's grip, they were yanked off balance and dragged behind the now running boy who yelled "Don't worry about the vegetables, I'll get dad to settle it!" as he pulled Hashirama and Madara off to parts unknown, allegedly in order to get the both of them something to eat.

 **Edited 8-9-17.**


	4. Chapter 3: It All Goes Down

It had been supposed to be an ordinary day. Shikadai and Inojin would meet up with Boruto for a bit of relaxation and some burgers, Sarada would probably drop in at some point, and maybe even Mitsuki. They'd bitch about their respective senseis, and just act like kids for a couple of hours before they went home to their families like they did at least once a week and usually several times a week, starting back when they'd all been in the Academy.

Nothing like this was supposed to happen.

"Holy shit! He's trying to kill us!" Shikadai yelled as he rolled out of the way of the attack from the friend of the boy who'd tried to smother Boruto with a hamburger just in the nick of time. Another millisecond, and the Kunai that didn't look standard somehow would've skewered him rather than the floor where he'd been the instant before. Inojin had already leapt into action and was preparing one of his paint creatures, which was his signature jutsu, much as it was his father's.

Though it should've been considering this was _Konoha_ , Shikadai's statement regarding the boy who'd attacked him and Inojin when he'd gone to Boruto's defense wasn't an exaggeration in the least.

The boy with the bowl cut who didn't make any sense to Shikadai, considering that all of the context surrounding the situation had indicated that this should've been a friendly fight between him, Boruto, Inojin, bowl cut boy and his spiky-haired friend who had seemed entirely too serious about trying to smother Boruto with a hamburger turned on Inojin, an entirely too serious look in his eyes as he raised his weapon and attacked. Why was the bowl cut boy who had attacked Inojin before he could finish his jutsu fighting like this was a serious life or death struggle? Why was the boy he'd pried off of Boruto before he could smother Boruto with a hamburger of all things forming the handseals for a fire jutsu one should never use indoors without looking the least bit like he was showing off?

Just what the hell was happening here? Seriously, what?

The fight between Inojin and the bowl cut boy - who was dressed in old-fashioned clothes that made him look like a Founding Era prototype for the Lees - was short, brutal, and over almost the instant it began. Inojin was hurt. Bleeding. Bleeding out.

Before the boy with the bowl cut who looked like he would actually go through with it could finish Inojin off while he was tied up with the other one - the spiky haired one who had absolutely no compunctions against using lethal jutsu indoors - two of the Nanadaime's Kage Bunshin turned up, pulled the boy with the bowl cut off Inojin before the boy could react to the Nanadaime's arrival and tackled the spiky-haired boy to the floor. There was a hard cold look in Boruto's father's eyes that was just as dangerous as the looks that had been in the eyes of the boy with the bowl cut and the boy with the spiky hair who'd attacked them, if not moreso.

"Just what do you think you're doing to my son and his friends?" the Nandaime asked in a tone of voice that Shikadai had never heard him use as a third Kage Bunshin arrived, gently picked up Inojin, and ran him to the hospital. A fourth joining them the instant the Kage Bunshin got outside and starting First Aid on Inojin as they ran to the hospital where Sarada's mother would surely save him, despite the fact that the injury was near-mortal.

Both the boy with the bowl cut and the spiky-haired boy looked as if they knew they were going to die in that moment. Not that they were ready to die for some cause that had involved attacking Boruto, possibly to get at the Nanadaime and weaken him. Just that they knew that they were going to die, because that was the natural order of things. Water was wet, the sun rose in the East, and they were going to die right here, right now.

There was no apology. There were no excuses, no begging for mercy. There was absolutely no recognition of what they had done wrong, or why it was even wrong in the first place. There was also absolutely no recognition of exactly who it was who had captured them whatsoever.

The Nanadaime may as well have been a complete stranger to them. Which was _impossible_. Absolutely everyone on the Continent who was old enough to go to Kindergarten or older knew who Uzumaki Naruto was, and what he looked like. Educational coloring books with images of the Gokage were sent out to every school on the continent every year on the anniversary of the ending of the Fourth Shinobi World War, which as incidentally also Uzumaki Naruto's birthday. These oddly dressed kids were their age, maybe a little younger, but not by much. Which meant that they should've received, scribbled in, and discarded at least five such coloring books over the course of their lifetimes.

Just when it looked like the Hokage who was normally calm, kind, and never really seriously raised his voice in anger, and was paradoxically a stranger to the boys who were being held captive by him, was about to get physical in order to get the answer he'd demanded from either one or both of the boys, Boruto's sensei ran into the restaurant. The man took one look at both boys who were being held captive by the Nanadaime and had started struggling when their Impending Death hadn't come immediately, and went pale, clearly recognizing the two.

"Well, fuck me sideways!" Konohamaru groaned as he buried his face in his hands, clearly not begging for copulation sideways or otherwise.

"Konohamaru." the Nanadaime growled in chorus, a dangerous edge to his voice that Shikadai was unfamiliar with.

"I screwed up." Konohamaru said. "I really, really screwed up."

"Konohamaru." the Nanadaime said, making the name sound like a lecture as well as a demand for further information.

"I thought I could find those two and get them back before anyone noticed, alright." Konohamaru said.

"When are they from?" Shikadai found himself asking. It was the only answer that made sense of everything. The clothes that made bowl cut boy look like a prototypical Metal Lee, or rather Maito Gai, considering it was his look that both Lees were copying. The utter seriousness with which both boys fought, showing no quarter, no mercy. Few signs that they'd ever fought together against an opponent, strangely enough...

"I dunno, Granddad's time maybe." Konohamaru replied, pulling Shikadai out of his litany of clues about when the two boys had come from. "The seal, which was meant to be a really neat one-way window you could look through and not a _door_ wasn't really precise."

" _Konohamaru_." said the Nanadaime Kage Bunshin who'd been holding bowl cut boy, simultaneously expressing irritation, anger, and a sense of "We're going to have a long talk about this later".

The Hokage, proving Naruto wasn't one to hold grudges, especially when a misunderstanding was involved, took on a gentler tone as he, or rather the Kage Bunshin who was holding Spiky-haired boy attempted to end the conflict by saying "Though it doesn't look like it, you two are in Konoha. I'm the Nanadaime Hokage Uzumaki Naruto, and..."

The Hokage didn't get further than that however, as the spiky-haired boy had started wildly thrashing around, kicking and trying to bite the second the Hokage had said the word "Uzumaki". Bowl Cut boy had become strangely resigned upon hearing the Hokage's name though. While the spiky-haired boy was thrashing about as if his life depended on it, a lucky kick caused the Kage Bunshin who'd been holding the boy to dispel. The boy immediately charged towards the Kage Bunshin who had been holding the now unresisting bowl cut boy, but didn't make it because he was stopped by Konohamaru who proved that he deserved his Jounin rank despite his little screw ups when he incapacitated the spiky-haired boy.

"Madara!" the bowl cut boy yelled when the spiky-haired boy dropped to the floor unconscious.

 _Wait. Did he just say..._

"Konohamaru!" the Hokage's Kage Bunshin said, simultaneously expressing shock, disbelief, irritation, and a sense of "How could you have done this to me?! The paperwork alone..."

"Fuck my life." Konohamaru groaned as he buried his face in his hands once more as the implications of the name that the boy with the bowl cut yelled finally hit.

"Konohamaru! Language!"

* * *

Madara frowned when he awoke to find himself lying in a bed, his arms strapped to the sides of it, and his fingers spread apart as if someone had feared he would make one-handed jutsu handseals. When he'd been knocked out, he'd never expected to wake up again. Nothing in this place made sense. Nothing seemed to follow the natural order of things. Clans fought, and if you were caught by the ally of a rival clan, you simply died. No matter how young you were. While he hated the natural order of things with a vengeance, and wished that children like him and his brother didn't die every day like his three other brothers had, it was familiar, and he knew how to deal with it and what came next.

Sure, he and Hashirama had once created a dream world where the fighting was over and children didn't die because they weren't sent out to face things they weren't ready for, but that had been just that, a dream world.

Speaking of Hashirama, he was grateful for the other boy being willing to risk his life backing him up against a Yamanaka and a Nara, and he wondered how the hell he'd ever be able to repay his friend for that. Even though everything had ended in disaster and they'd been captured by an Uzumaki who was strangely allied with a Sarutobi.

"And, how are we feeling this morning?" a voice that would be sweet if it weren't for that bitter edge to it asked, pulling Madara out of his musings on this strange world he'd found himself in.

Madara remained silent as the pink-haired woman whom the voice belonged to examined him. He wouldn't give them the satisfaction. They may have caught him, and might torture him soon, but they'd never get anything out of him. Not so much as an agonized scream. He'd bite his own tongue off and kill himself first.

His only hope right now was that Hashirama wasn't as _loyal_ to the Uzumaki as he half suspected he was, and that his friend would somehow get them out of this.

* * *

As he wandered around looking at things he didn't understand that seemed to tell the story of a family and a place he didn't understand the night before Madara had awoken to find a pink-haired woman by his bedside, Hashirama didn't know what to think. There was absolutely nothing to grasp onto. The word Konoha, which was apparently the name of the city, meant nothing to him, nor did the title of the man who ran the city. A man who was apparently an Uzumaki, and therefore would report everything to his father when he returned him to him. Including everything the man might've possibly inferred about his friend who'd rather spectacularly given away the fact that he was a shinobi, and from a clan other than the Senju, the Uzumaki, the Nara, and obviously the Yamanaka.

Following the end of the fight that had ended in his and Madara's capture, he'd been brought to the Uzumaki's family home where he'd discovered that the strange blond Uzumaki, who had the right bone structure to be such despite his odd coloration, was married to a Hyuuga of all people.

As the woman who'd obviously been preparing something else for the family's supper prepared mixed mushroom soup, a Yamanaka woman arrived and was greeted with something other than a brutal all-out attack that was meant to kill her before she could use her family's jutsu on anyone.

"Just so you know," the Yamanaka woman who was being treated like an old family friend - which explained "Uzumaki" Naruto's coloration come to think of it - said, "I don't blame you for what happened."

It was in that moment that he realized exactly who the Yamanaka woman was. The woman was the mother of the boy he'd nearly killed. Likely had killed, considering the wound he'd given the boy. And, she would be well within her rights to get revenge for her son.

Strangely, the woman didn't. She instead tried to seem understanding, and had told him her doors were always open if he wanted to talk about what was going on and how he felt about everything that had happened to him so far.

That just meant she was playing a long game, trying to get him to trust her, believe she was past what happened before she got a revenge so horrible that it would be spoken of in legend centuries hence.

Didn't it?

He didn't know anymore.

He just wanted Madara.

Despite the fact that Mixed Mushroom soup was his absolute favorite, he found that he didn't have the energy or the apetite to do more than poke at his food while the "Hokage's" son and daughter gave their portions dubious glances. The "Hokage"'s spot at the table was empty, because the man was away dealing with his responsibilities, to which he had been added, until someone could find a convenient time to return him to his father.

He just had to find Madara before then though, and get him out of here before whoever his father sent to retrieve him arrived. He had a strong suspicion that Madara would be killed if he didn't.

There had been a _look_ in the Hokage's eyes after he'd made the mistake of saying Madara's name.

* * *

Naruto sighed as he settled down to deal with the paperwork that had been gathering on his desk, much of which undoubtedly had to do with the incident between his son, his son's friends, and a certain pair of time travelers. Many people were undoubtedly thinking him an idiot who was inviting trouble by bringing a boy who'd attacked his son and almost killed Ino and Sai's son into his home. The thing was, he knew who that kid was, had known how that kid was raised, how the kid couldn't afford to go easy in what he perceived to be a real fight, how the kid had only done what came natural as breathing when he'd attacked Inojin. Keeping the boy at his house rather than in the hospital or in a cell would go a long way towards preventing further conflict, and therefore further accidents.

If the boy had been dragged into captivity, possibly in the research department, the boy would've done his level best to free himself. Being Senju freaking Hashirama, that kid was deadly at any age, and several good shinobi would lose their lives trying to keep him locked up when he made his escape.

Better that the boy be placed in a cage that wasn't a cage with the hope of going home in time. The relative, carefully supervised, freedom should relax the boy to the point that he would stand down long enough for it to be explained to him that virtually nobody in Konoha was a threat to him, and therefore didn't need to be dealt with accordingly.

As for the Uchiha boy who'd been dragged along for the ride with Hashirama, the Uchiha who had grown up to cause such chaos and destruction because he'd been tricked oh so long ago, he'd be going home with Sakura the second he was medically cleared. The Uzumaki name would serve only to cause unneeded panic with the boy, and the Uzumaki home would be a place which would constantly be seen as a threat in the Uchiha's eyes, due to his clan's ancient alliance with the Senju which had only ended when the Uzumaki had gone virtually extinct and the Senju had broken apart and scattered on their own volition. Better to send the boy to stay with what was left of the Uchiha Clan in Konoha.

Which was basically Sarada, come to think of it, considering Sakura was a Uchiha by marriage and Sasuke was currently away again.

Hopefully having a familiarish face around would calm Madara's homicidal impulses enough that Konoha wouldn't end up losing good shinobi between now and whenever he and Konohamaru - who was going to be heavily involved in the fixing of the mess he caused - found a way to return Hashirama and Madara to where they belong.

Rather than causing a frown, the next sheet of paper that Naruto picked up regarding Hashirama and Madara - seriously, he'd be having _**words**_ with Konohamaru later - made him smile. Apparently, the two boys had been in the village longer than Konohamaru had let on, and they had been causing some minor trouble. Iruka-sensei, who'd found out who the two kids he'd had a run-in with yesterday were, had sent a request that the two boys be sent to the Academy in order to receive the rest of their punishment if possible. If not possible, Iruka-sensei had requested that he be allowed to be brought to wherever the boys were being held in order to drill it into their heads that certain behaviors, such as playing chicken with trains, were completely unacceptable.

Smiling, Naruto signed off on the request and requisitioned a pair of guards to supervise.

If anyone could get anything through Uchiha Madara's thick skull, it would be Iruka-sensei.

* * *

 **Author's note for those who might be confused:** Chapter 2 ends almost immediately before the Prologue, and Chapter 3 starts almost immediately after the Prologue.

 **Edited 8-9-17.**


	5. Chapter 4: Tense Morning

"Look, I'm going to let you loose, but if you show any signs of attacking, I'm going to restrain you again worse than you are now." the pink-haired woman said when she was done examining Madara, who had been working up the courage to attempt suicide when the woman had jabbed him with several needles full of strange liquids she'd called vaccines.

"Why?" Madara found himself asking, despite the fact that he swore himself to complete silence while he was here only a short while earlier.

"Naruto seems to think you'd do better if you were allowed freedom to move about before you're sent home." the woman said, sounding somewhat disapproving of this Naruto person's decision. "Personally, I think you'd be a danger to everyone around you, considering you always were."

Why the woman seemed to think she knew him, he didn't know. He'd never seen her before she'd come into this place where he was being held captive. True to her word however, she started to release him. Slowly. One finger at a time. As if she were only doing this under protest. Which meant that the Naruto person, who could be that Uzumaki he'd met an indeterminate amount of time before that called himself "Hokage", was the woman's superior. How much she was obligated to follow this Naruto, and how much he could trust her since she was a subordinate to an Uzumaki remained to be seen though.

He hadn't been seriously injured or killed so far, but odds were that ulterior motives were in play, and that could change the second he was no-longer needed for whatever plan was running. Whether it directly involved him or Hashirama from whom he'd been separated.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he was let up off the bed he'd been strapped down to and ordered to follow the woman who had examined him for some unknown purpose and briefly tortured him, possibly even poisoning him with a slow-acting poison, before turning him loose. Looking at the woman's back, which she felt confident enough in her skills to show him, he was stunned to see the red and white Uchiwa of his clan.

"Why?" he found himself asking, barely restraining himself from yelling the question. "Why do you wear the symbol of my clan?!"

"Because I'm married to a Uchiha." the woman replied.

Feeling _something_ well up at the _Outsider'_ s claim of being wed to one of his clan, an obviously traitorous member of his clan, he reached into his clothes for a weapon only to discover he had none. Which he should've realized was the case long before, considering no sane captor would allow their captive to keep any weapons on their person.

In the event that one of his clan married an _Outsider_ , the only way that they wouldn't be expelled from the Uchiha and killed before the Sharingan could make its way into another clan would be if the Outsider had proved themselves in both loyalty and worth beyond any and all doubt. Since marrying an Outsider could weaken the Sharingan, any and all of the Outsider's offspring would be tested. If any of those children failed, they would be killed alongside the Outsider that had produced them.

The clan could not afford to be weak, nor could they afford to be made weak.

"Listen," the woman said when they reached the outside door of the building he'd been held in, looking far scarier than she had earlier when he'd thought she was going to torture him to death. "I'm going to be bringing you home with me. While you are in my home, you will follow _MY_ rules. If you even look at my daughter wrong, I will kill you where you stand. Hokage's orders and history be damned."

Following that declaration, the woman started leading him into the city that he and Hashirama had been wandering around the day before, and the day before that, considering the position of the sun indicated that it was indeed morning. Her attitude when she started walking, fully expecting him to follow, made it clear that one of her rules was that he follow her and not wander off. Deciding that he didn't care for her rules now that he was free, Madara turned to run.

Quick as a wink, the woman who was far stronger than her figure hinted at grabbed him and started dragging him to wherever her home was. Though it was utterly humiliating, and a number of people stopped and stared, Madara had found himself unable to free himself from the woman as she dragged him to her home as if he were nothing more than an unruly toddler who was too young to know where to go when they had to _go_. The house he was dragged to was a nice one, speaking either of the woman's wealth, her husband's wealth, or the possibility of a bribe from the leader of the city. A bribe that had bought the Uchiha that lived here as a traitor to his clan.

"Where's your husband?" Madara asked as the Outsider woman dragged him indoors and ordered him to take his shoes off, as if he wouldn't know to do so already.

"He's away." the woman replied, not elaborating further.

"Mom! What are you doing home so early?" a girl who was wearing some sort of eye protection that sort of looked like _glasses_ , asked as she came into view. A black-haired, black-eyed girl that looked like a Uchiha. Obviously the offspring of the traitor Uchiha who didn't deserve to wear the symbol of their clan and the Outsider woman.

"Why aren't you at your team training?" the pink-haired Outsider who was this girl's mother asked, sounding as if she'd much rather that her daughter was elsewhere at the moment.

"Konohamaru-sensei's kinda in trouble with the Hokage who ordered him to focus on fixing the mess he made." the girl replied. "Mitsuki and Boruto are also over, since I figured you'd be okay with it."

"And, why did you think I'd be okay with you bringing Boruto within a mile of the boy who tried to kill him yesterday?" the pink-haired Outsider woman asked. "If he doesn't try something, I'm sure Boruto will. Probably in a misguided attempt at getting revenge, which will just end with him in the hospital and Madara in the morgue."

Apparently having heard his name being mentioned, the whisker cheeked blond who'd tried to poison him the day before came into view, munching on sticks made some sort of raw root vegetable, possibly daikon, and not looking the least bit vindictive. Which was raising all sorts of alarms.

"It's fine obasan, dad explained it to me." the boy said, pausing his snacking. "Back when Madara and Hashirama were kids, they used to be psycho-paranoid about everything and didn't have burgers. Seems I should've taken them out for ramen, or to some place that serves old-people food instead."

The pink-haired Outsider woman made a sound that seemed to be a cross between frustration and resignation at this.

"You've got all your weapons locked up, I trust." the woman said, slipping into a parental lecturing mode that Madara was rather familiar with.

"Uh," the blond boy, who was obviously the blond Uzumaki man's son, said as his eyes widened in realization.

"Just a sec!" the boy yelled before calling "Mitsuki, grab anything that looks sharp and hide it!" over his shoulder. The sound of someone swiftly moving to action, and the clinking of metal followed.

"Hide anything breakable too!" the blond Uzumaki's offspring yelled after a moment's thought before turning back to focus on him.

"Well, since you're in the present, we thought we'd introduce you to modern technology and stuff." the whisker-marked blond said. "We can start with the television."

The boy then turned and moved towards the interior of the house, his body language making it clear he wanted Madara to follow. Not really seeing any choice, since his only other real option would be standing there in the genkan with the pink-haired Outsider like an idiot, he did so.

"We're having a Kagemasa movie marathon!" the boy said enthusiastically, as he led Madara into a room which presumably housed the television. Whatever that was.

Madara didn't recognize the furniture that was in the room that he had followed the blond Uzumaki boy into. The half-Uchiha girl who'd departed earlier while the blond Uzumaki boy had been talking to her mother was sprawled out on something that had a long cushioned seat which was attached to a tall cushioned back that was upholstered in soft fuzzy-looking fabric. She was focused on whatever it was on the far end of the room that was making noise. Turning to look, he could see a box that contained something that looked like a Genjutsu which hadn't dispelled when he'd tried disrupting his Chakra. The second he was in the room, the blond boy sat down in front of the piece of furniture that the half-Uchiha was laying across and started focusing on the box, not even looking as he reached down and grabbed one of those root vegetable sticks off of the plate he'd sat down next to and started eating.

Crossing the room to be close to the window so he could see if he could make an escape while the room's two other occupants were distracted by the Genjutsu box, he noticed something that had briefly sent his mind to a screeching halt. The window contained two massive panes of what had to be some of the smoothest, clearest, and most bubble free glass he'd ever seen. He briefly considered breaking the bottom pane, which would provide him with a weapon and even possibly freedom, but the way the eyes of the room's two occupants had briefly flicked towards him had told him that they weren't completely enspelled by the Genjutsu, and would very swiftly notice as he did so.

Looking at the other side of the room, he could see that there was a piece of furniture with much smaller panes of glass set in the dark wood resting against the wall directly across from him, a short ways from the door to the room he was in. Carefully calculating while trying to look like he wasn't doing so, Madara started to plan how he could go over and break one of those panes unnoticed and acquire a weapon with which he could defend himself.

* * *

Hashirama sat in the Uzumaki home's main downstairs room watching as the half-Yamanaka Uzumaki's Hyuuga wife wandered around cleaning things. He hadn't slept for two nights straight, and he found himself frequently nodding off in the relative silence that was only broken by the tread of the wife of the "Nanadaime Hokage". He couldn't afford to sleep though. Not in this strange place where he wasn't _safe_.

Follwing the dinner which had shown that the Hokage's wife, at the very least, rather disturbingly knew exactly what his favorite food was, he had been invited to clean himself off and have a bath before the "Hokage" had set him up on a spare bed in his office, which he'd swiftly learned he'd been locked into when he tried both the door and the strange glass window.

After discovering he couldn't escape by breaking the window because there window was unbreakable for some reason and made a noise that didn't sound like glass every time he'd hit it, he had spent the entire night fighting off sleep and starting at every strange noise he heard. Even in this relatively quiet part of the city he'd found himself in nearly two days before, there were an awful lot of unfamiliar noises.

Sometime an hour or so after the sun rose, he had been released so he could eat breakfast. Despite the fact that he was very hungry, he found that he could do no more than pick at his food, fearing that it had been drugged, or worse, poisoned. The fact that his food had come from the same pots and pans as the food that had been served to the blond Uzumaki man's family didn't mean squat, considering his plate, glass, and/or eating utensils could've very easily been poisoned.

Despite the fact that he was tired and hungry, he could not trust people who so easily accepted him after he had killed one of their kin.

After breakfast, both of the family's children had been sent off, and the silent Hyuuga woman had started puttering about the house picking up things her children had carelessly dropped and putting things to rights before she started doing things like dusting the furniture and the frames of the strangely realistic looking portraits of members of the family engaged in a variety of activities.

Eventually, the woman had stopped tidying, grabbed a basket of mending, and had sat down in the squishy chair across from his.

"When was the last time you slept Hashirama-kun?" the woman asked with a frown when she'd looked up from one of her son's shirts and saw him snapping himself awake again.

Hashirama remained silent, not giving in to the woman's gentle interrogation.

"I think you should go back to my husband's office and lay down." the woman said softly after the silence stretched on for a minute. "Iruka-sensei is going to be here later today to pick you and Madara up for the detention you two skipped out on."

Despite the fact that he knew that it was more an order than a suggestion, he didn't move towards the woman's husband's office, which had been hastily cleared of just about everything that could be used as a weapon and all important documents the evening before. There was no way he'd let his guard down so far as to sleep in this place with these people who were likely just waiting for an opening to exact their revenge for what he had done.

He needed to find Madara, then they needed to get out of here, and then he could sleep. Not before.

* * *

Hinata was very careful not to move when the child who would grow up to be the Shodai Hokage had finally lost his battle with wakefulness, despite the fact that her first instinct was to go and cover the boy with a blanket so he'd be a bit more comfortable as he slept in the same chair her own children had slept in on multiple occasions. If she moved however, the boy would not get the sleep he so desperately needed. The boy's survival skills were to honed to allow himself to sleep around strangers, and the boy would snap awake in an instant despite the fact that he was so utterly sleep deprived that he had done so should she move from her spot. His survival skills had to be that sharp and then some in order to survive in the era he'd been born in.

Had it been then, and had she been an enemy rather than the wife of his future successor's successor's successor's successor's successor's successor, his falling asleep would've likely been a fatal mistake. A fatal mistake he couldn't afford to make, because it would be the absolute last mistake he'd ever make.

The insight she'd gained into the time before Konoha's founding in the short time Hashirama had been in her home had been utterly heartbreaking. Every time she saw the genuine fear and strong distrust in the boy's eyes as he stayed in a safe place that he couldn't find it within himself to believe was safe, it had been utterly heartwrenching.

She had made the food she'd known was the Shodai Hokage's favorite since she was a small girl as a welcoming gesture, and the boy who'd nearly killed Inojin because he hadn't known he wasn't in a life-or-death struggle at the time, hadn't viewed it as such. The boy's suspicion over the food and hospitality she and her family had given him had been even more pronounced that morning, when he'd poked at the food, trying to make it look like he'd sampled some of it when no-one was looking, and left a full plate despite the fact that doing such was exceedingly bad manners.

Following breakfast, the boy sat in the one spot where his back would be somewhat protected while he watched everything that went on about him without having backed himself into a wall. Carefully scrunching himself in the sitting-room chair whose back was thick enough that pretty much only a sword or other long bladed weapon could get through it so his head wasn't sticking up above the top and his feet didn't stick out into the space between the bottom and the floor where someone could grab him, the boy had sat there and watched everything, fighting a losing battle with sleep.

Having learned the value of silent, watchful patience long ago, Hinata was able to sit there unmoving as the hours passed and the boy whom she'd thought would be far more like Naruto than he was, considering...snatched a few hours of the sleep he clearly desperately needed.

Around the time that Hinata realized she should be preparing Himawari's afternoon snack since the Academy was letting out, she was startled by a knock at the door which had caused the Senju boy to snap to wakefulness, automatically moving into a defensive position. When she went to answer the door, it was to find Umino Iruka and Himawari on her doorstep and Kiba and Lee a short distance away, each holding one of the child Madara's arms.

"Ah, hello Hinata" Iruka, who had stood as Naruto's father at her wedding, said, "I've come to get Hashirama for his detention."

 **Edited 8-9-17**


	6. Chapter 5: Lessons Learned

Hashirama honestly didn't know what to think of the man in the skintight green outfit who had complimented him on his "youthful" appearance when he had been herded out the door by the Hokage's wife - who was as quietly strong as she was gentle looking - only to find himself face to face with the old man he'd met on his first day in this strange place that the Hokage's children had tried to convince him was the future. On the one hand, the man in green and orange cut a completely ludicrous figure, but on the other, the man in the green outfit who'd had a bowl cut similar to his had effortlessly captured him when he'd tried to make a run for it, not using any Chakra whatsoever as far as he could tell.

Madara, who'd previously been held captive by the man with the bowl cut and an obvious Inuzuka, became solely a captive of the Inuzuka, while the man with the bowl cut had made it clear that he could either walk, or he would carry him. He didn't know whether or not to feel grateful that Madara was also there, considering the fact that the both of them were walking to an unknown fate.

Despite his "kind" behavior from earlier, the Hokage had apparently decided to hold him and Madara in detention elsewhere when he realized that his ploy that was meant to get him to trust him wasn't working, revealing that, if the man were an Uzumaki, he was a traitor. The upside to this new situation that he and Madara were going to was that he would have a rough idea of where Madara was being held, rather than being left in the dark as he had been. Which meant that he would have a better chance of getting the both of them free.

After they had been walking for a while, the old man who'd looked like a Senju but wasn't that Hashirama and Madara had encountered on their first day in the place they found themselves trapped in started talking.

"I had considered showing you two the train safety video we show the students every year," the brown haired man with the scar across his nose said, mattter-of-factly. "But, then I realized that you routinely saw worse than what was shown in the video in your daily lives."

"Making the two of you write lines until the sheer repitition causes the lesson to sink indoesn't feel like it would have the right impact however." the man continued. "So, I've decided to take advantage of a chance that dropped in my lap and arranged for something else to impress upon you the importance of keeping safe on, near, and around the local trains."

"A number of the village's elderly have not adapted to the rapid advances in technology in recent years, and a number of unfortunate accidents have resulted." the scarred man said, sounding as if he were genuinely sad over such a fact. "I received news of one such accident when I left the Academy to fetch the two of you, which means that I will be giving you an object lesson on exactly what can happen if you make a miscalculation regarding the train's distance in respect to your ability to dodge."

Both of the men who were holding Hashirama and Madara captive for the old man who could've done so himself if he'd so chosen blanched at this. Hashirama didn't know why, considering both men should've experienced a lifetime of witnessing both grievous injuries and death.

"Trains are large, and have a good deal of momentum behind them. Even the small light-rail commuter trains that run around Konoha. They do not slow quickly, and cannot stop on a Ryo like some people seem to think they can given the number of injuries seen annually." the scarred man continued, obviously in lecture mode, as if he were imparting an important lesson. "Even some shinobi seem to have failed to learn this lesson."

The scarred man continued to talk as they walked, and eventually the group, Hashirama, Madara, the old man and the two men who were preventing Hashirama and Madara from escaping, reached the destination that the old man who had talked about "trains" and how you were supposed to behave on, in and around them had been leading them to. The place where the lesson the old man had wanted to teach him and Madara was waiting.

The place seemed to be a small, quiet side street in a residential neighborhood of one and two storey homes built to a design that Hashirama was unfamiliar with. Running parallel to and almost touching the street they'd stopped at were two metal lines which were running parallel to each-other, just like the lines that the strange object that Hashirama and Madara had encountered on their first day had been moving along. On one end of the street, an area that was gathering a crowd was cordoned off with yellow ribbon of some sort. Several shinobi stood inside the area marked off by the yellow ribbon, seemingly running crowd control, and a number of individuals in identical outfits stood next to a blanket covered object which was laying near the metal lines that the scarred man had called rails at the center of the cordoned off area. One of the identically dressed men was holding a stretcher upright on its end.

When they arrived at the cordoned off area, they were met by one of the Hokage's shinobi who didn't look too happy to see them there. Unlike the usual shinobi that were in the employ of the one who ran the city who wore armbands with what looked like the Uzumaki spiral on them, the sigil on this shinobi's armband was a red and white uchiwa in a four-pointed shuriken. The man was blond and his eyes were a rather greenish hazel. Two traits that most definitely didn't belong to the Uchiha. But, that didn't really mean anything in the scheme of things, since the Uchiha had been known to mark hires so they didn't accidentally kill them.

Hashirama never felt so helpless as in that moment when he realized that he was standing there in front of a Uchiha ally who'd obviously sworn fealty to the Uchiha with absolutely no weapons on his person, and a group of incredibly strong people close by waiting to attack should he go on the offensive in order to catch his opponent by surprise before he could be killed. He felt more than saw Madara start at the sight of the man who wore the mark of the Uchiha. Glancing out of the corner of his eye, he could see an angry and almost _betrayed_ expression on his friend's face, which the other boy swiftly tried to hide under a mask of indifference.

"If you could hurry up and get this over with so it doesn't turn into even more of a _spectacle_ than it already is, it would be appreciated." the man who wore the symbol of the Uchiha bit out impatiently. "While I'm sure you feel your lesson is _important_ , there are _some_ people who can't afford to stand around all day waiting at your convenience."

"You'd think that the police wouldn't be such pricks without the Uchiha..." the old man with the scar across his nose muttered under his breath before catching himself as the shinobi who was openly wearing something with the symbol of the Uchiha on it despite the fact that they weren't in a battle situation raised the strange, translucent yellow ribbon and allowed them to pass under it.

Hashirama and Madara were then led to the blanket wrapped object that was half on, half off the street. The people who had been standing within the cordoned off area waiting for them to arrive surrounded the object so the people outside the cordoned off area couldn't clearly see it, and the old man with the scar across his nose gently knelt down, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and lifted it so Hashirama and Madara could see what was underneath.

What was under the blanket had once been human, and it was undeniably dead.

Looking at the corpse - if the scarred man was old, this person had been absolutely _ancient_ \- the fact that this person hadn't been a casualty of battle, collateral damage or otherwise, hit Hashirama. There'd been no struggle against a force that might possibly be overcome if one was exceedingly lucky. This person had been killed by an _object_. An object that had no intention behind it, that had not been used with the purpose of being a means to kill. The person who looked like civilian despite the curious callouses on their hands had been run down by an object that had just been making its way from Point A to Point B and didn't want anything they had, simply because they'd failed to get out of its way.

Somehow, that knowledge made Hashirama sicker than he would've been when confronted with a casualty of battle. At least then, the death would've had a _purpose._

This. This was meaningless. A person grown so old that they'd simply gotten caught in the gears of the world that rotated around them, shredded, and spat out by the world that went rolling on ahead, heedless of what had happened until after the deed was done. There had been no family to sacrifice for so their loved one might live another day. There had been no death in a moment that was part of something that would greatly change history and the surrounding landscape forever. There had simply been a quiet and meaningless end. Old, so old that one should be in bed surrounded by grandchildren like in those old stories the civilians tell, but in the middle of the road with no family in sight, and a _mundane_ _object_ that had simply rolled over them and rolled past during its usual rounds.

Hashirama grit his teeth and tried not to cry as the old man with the scar across his nose lowered the blanket and indicated that the people who'd been waiting could cart the body away now. It was obvious that the sadistic bastard who'd just impressed upon him and Madara how alone they were - just as alone as the old person who'd died in the street with no-one but a bunch of random gawkers to mark their passing - and how they could simply die in this place, crushed by an indifferent world without their family there, without their family ever knowing what had happened to them, wanted some sort of reaction out of him and Madara to show that his little "lesson" had stuck.

As he fought back the tears at the sight of this purposeless death, the man in the skintight green outfit and the bowl cut set a hand on his shoulder. Not a threatening hand. Not one that was preparing to guide him away to where he would be held in detention. A...A comforting one.

He almost appreciated it the gesture, but the lack of knowledge of what it was that the stranger in the offputting clothes wanted concerned him and didn't allow him to enjoy it before he shrugged the hand off of him. Rather than force the issue, the green-clad man with the round eyes, large eyebrows, and bowl cut kept his hand to himself, his body language stating that, in addition to preventing him from escaping, he was willing to be there for him if he asked it.

* * *

Madara scowled as the Uchiha halfbreed allowed him, Hashirama, and the group that was simultaneously holding them captive and herding them around the village to leave the cordoned off area while people worked behind them to load the corpse that he and Hashirama had been taken to see on a stretcher. Someone, quite possibly the traitor Uchiha who'd married the pink-haired Outsider, had started an off-branching of the Uchiha clan in this city. He would find them, he would find where this "new clan" was holing themselves up, and then he would tell his father.

The blond boy he'd met the day before, and that boy's friends - who'd included the half-Uchiha girl - had tried to convince him that he'd gotten here through time travel. But he knew that time travel wasn't real. Time travel and sleeping a hundred years only to find the world changed and all of your friends and family long dead only happened in stories. There was no mystical Uzumaki seal that would transport you to beyond Tomorrow or before Yesterday. There was no mysterious elixir that would hold you ageless in a long slumber that could only end when certain conditions were met. There was no summon who could pull you into a world where your life had already happened and it was the future already.

There was no way he could've been taken to a place that he couldn't walk home from if he walked long enough, and walked far enough. A shinobi could walk across entire oceans if they had to, and he would. With Hashirama - who these people were trying to separate from him through both distance and suspicion regarding exactly where his loyalties lie - by his side of course.

The second he got home, he would tell his father of this strange nonsensical place with its blond Uzumaki, possibly ensorceled Senju, and traitor Uchiha who were trying to start their own clan of half-breeds.

"As soon as we get back to the Academy, you will be writing out 'I will not play chicken with the trains' as many times as you can until you are picked up." the scarred man who had brought him and Hashirama to see the sad and pathetic looking corpse that Hashirama was still crying over said as soon as they'd gotten a discreet distance from the area where the body had been cordoned off as if death were something unusual rather than an everyday occurrence that could hit you when you least expect it, cutting into Madara's planning.

 _Academy? Picked up?_

What?

He knew what the words meant - an academy was a school of some sort - but, those words seemed so utterly alien in the context of the situation he was in. The situation in which he was being taken somewhere new to be detained because the _Outsider_ had finally convinced the Uzumaki to keep him away from her home. Somewhere new where he would be close to if not with Hashirama.

He'd feel better if he'd still had the glass shards. He'd had one for Hashirama, but it had gotten taken when the scarred man's companions had patted him down after the Inuzuka had smelled whatever it was that was used to polish the glass-fronted cabinet he'd taken the shards from on him.

He'd managed to shatter one of the panes of glass on the cabinet while the whisker-cheeked blond and his two friends were cheering during a particularly intense looking battle between "Kagemasa" and another nin that was taking place inside the Genjutsu box, and had secreted a number of the larger shards away while pretending to lean against said cabinet. Then, the scarred man whom the Outsider woman had treated like a respected teacher had arrived with the Inuzuka and the strange green-clad man with the bowl cut in tow.

He had pretended to be cooperative, deciding not to make his move until the odds were no-longer seven to one. The Inuzuka had smelled "Sakura's" glass cleaner and furniture polish on him, which had led to a very thorough pat down which had revealed every last one of the glass shards he'd hidden on his person.

Then, the scarred man's companions had each taken one of his arms, preventing him from fighting back or using jutsu and started carrying him off. Rather than carrying him to the cell where he was going to be detained as he'd expected when he'd heard that he was going into detention, the men had carried him to another house where they had picked up Hashirama who looked like he had just woken up from a nap, and apparently hadn't managed to get his hands on any weapons if the Inuzuka's lack of reaction was anything to go by.

"We're here." the scarred man said, snapping Madara out of his memories. Looking directly ahead, he saw that "here" was a sprawling white three-storey building with orange wooden awnings over the windows on the central and left wings of the building and orange rooves on the cylindrical and conical parts of the building. On one of the orange rooves, at the front and center of the building, the kanji for shinobi had been painted.

Going through the front door, Madara found himself confronted with a massive board that listed the locations of everything in the building, from Academy classrooms, Academy administrative offices, and the Academy cafeteria to the Hokage's office, the Mission Assignment Desk, and a second cafeteria that was reserved for the building's administrative staff.

Though Madara hadn't been given more than a second or two to study the board before he was shoved in the direction of the Academy by the Inuzuka, he didn't fail to note that while the Katakana had said "Academy", the Kanji had said "Ninja school". From the looks of things, the city had created a school to fill out the ranks that would be needed for a village this size. Which made sense really, because there couldn't possibly be _that many_ shinobi who were willing to be lured away from their clans to live here. Even if the city _did_ let said traitors found "new" clans under everyone's noses "safe" behind city walls.

Eventually, Madara and Hashirama were led into what Madara assumed was a classroom. It had not been what he'd been expecting after he'd read about such things in that civilian children's adventure novel which had been set inside an elite academy for young Samurai which his father had torched the second he'd found it. The desks, which were set in tiered rows, were obviously bolted down, as were the benches behind them which looked like they might be constructed in a piece with the desks of the next row behind.

As soon as he and Hashirama were seated, paper was set in front of him, and Madara awaited the arrival of the brushes and the ink which he could possibly throw in the eyes of the scarred man before making a run for one of the glass windows. Brushes and ink never made an appearance though. The man handed him a short, slender and colorful stick that looked like it might be made of wax which was wrapped in thick colored paper that tapered to a dull and rounded point instead. Hashirama received a similar item, his in blue rather than red.

"What's this?" Madara found himself asking.

"It's a crayon." the scarred man said. "You write with it. Now get to work."

After making a couple of experimental strokes to figure out how he was supposed to write with the thing, and noticing that the parts of the fragile, and easily snapped stick that weren't covered in paper made marks, Madara sat back and did nothing, carefully testing how far the old man with the scar across his nose would let him go. Especially now that the man's guards were sitting by at the door rather than actively holding him and Hashirama captive or standing guard over him.

He'd thought the man impressive two days before when he'd first encountered him and been effortlessly bound by him, but the fact that he'd needed guards during their second encounter made the man seem far less so, and that it had been his instinctive fear of someone that old that had allowed the man to capture him. After all, if someone who could reach an age where they were covered in deep lines rather than only achieving a few shallow ones here and there before they were killed off in battle in this place, and one of those exceedingly aged people was too slow to dodge a train, how weak might this man who was merely maybe forty be?

"Get to work!" the scarred man yelled, catching his attention as a stick of what looked like perfectly good sealing chalk flew at his face.

He barely managed to catch the stick of chalk in the instant before it would've hit him in the forehead with enough force to knock him back a couple inches and possibly leave a bruise. Despite the fact that he didn't know all that much about seals, he wasn't going to let good fortune like this go to waste. After catching the chalk, he swiftly slipped it into a hidden pocket in the hem of his sleeve in a move that was meant to look like he was just crossing his arms.

"Just so you know, that chalk is laced so genius brats like you can't do what you're thinking of doing." the scarred man said from his spot at the desk in the front of the room that had an open book which he'd been reading out of resting on it. "A generation before I attended the Academy, a pair of sealing geniuses entered into a rivalry, and the school was barely standing by the time they graduated. The school took precautions to prevent a repeat performance."


End file.
